


some things are never the same

by miss_eee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cancer, F/M, Fertility Issues, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Mentions of Cancer, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_eee/pseuds/miss_eee
Summary: The story of four friends and the life they build together.After years apart, the four friends find themselves back in Riverdale, where things are not the same as when they left. New jobs, new apartments, new relationships, and one big life-altering thing that's holding them all together.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 57
Kudos: 96
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This is actually another older piece of mine that I've rewritten and reworked, so if your brain can remember fanfics from over 2 years ago, you might remember this one. I chickened out and didn't finish posting it, and it's been haunting me ever since, so here we are. 
> 
> Shout out to @ponytailplaymate for helping me fine-tune this!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at @miss-eee

The jarring noise of his cellphone alarm startled him, and as he opened his eyes - bright green leaves staring down at him - he struggled to remember where he was. How long had he been asleep? His body ached as he stretched, hitting the hardwood of the picnic bench. Checking his phone, he noticed he'd slept through the first alarm, awakening an hour after he had originally planned.  _ Fuck _ . Now all the time he had gained leaving before dawn was wasted, he was going to be late.   
  
He ran inside the small building, figuring if he was already late, he might as well use the facilities while he was here, before getting back on the road. Climbing back on his bike, his whole body reacted to the familiar posture. He had ridden ten hours already today and still had another two to go before he reached his destination. As he pulled out of the rest area and back on to the expressway, he thought only of the soft bed awaiting him ahead.   
  
He knew she'd be livid if he arrived even a minute late, so he quickly dialed the number saved in his phone under Twisted Sister.  _ Voicemail, good. _ "V- I'm running late, took longer at a stop than I planned. It'll be about 7, maybe 7:30. Have coffee ready or I'm sleeping through the night." 

She wasn't really his sister, that title belongs solely to a short, 20-year-old brunette, but they had forged a bond in high school over that fact that although they had come from two completely different backgrounds, their fathers had somehow ended up in criminal dealings together, and as a result, he'd spent his junior and senior years crashing in a spare bedroom at her mother's penthouse.   
  
Whenever she called, he'd drop everything, whenever she needed it. Living twelve hours away though, meant most of his support had been provided solely over the phone for the last eight years, until she had called and requested his presence, in person. Had it really been that long since he'd made the pilgrimage back to the town he'd grown up in? Eight years.   
  
He'd avoided coming back here because everything in this town reminded him of her. Not the Twisted Sister, but her best friend. His best friend. Or at least, his at-one-time best friend. The girl he'd pined over since he could remember pining over her, but who had only ever viewed him as her best friend. She had been the lightness to his darkness, the blonde cheerleader to his dark-haired outcast. She was the love of his life, and he'd never even so much as kissed her.   
  
Eight years. That's how long he'd been gone. How long it'd been since he'd seen her, heard her voice, felt her laughter shake through to his bones. Eight years of picking up the phone and hovering over her name, but not ever pressing  _ call _ . Eight years of following each other on social media, only ever bothering to send a Happy Birthday. How do you spend the first 18 years of your life being glued to someone's side and then ghost for eight years?   
  
Cage the Elephant started blaring over his radio, and he turned it up, hoping to shut off the noise in his head. The miles passed underneath him, surrounded by lush green trees and wide-open fields. After a few hours, he finally slowed his bike down, nearing the exit. The backroads and tall trees seemed to be calling him home, calling out to him to face the past that was quickly becoming his reality. He rode passed the Welcome sign, passed Pop's Chock'Lit Shoppe (still the best burgers and milkshake he'd ever had), passed the high school that he'd only survived with her by his side, passed the neighborhood that she had grown up in, before the only stoplight in town beckoned him with a beaming red light.   
  
He sat there alone for only a moment before a BMW convertible pulled up next to him. The bright red car screamed 'Cheryl Blossom', but he turned to get a look at the driver, and was met with a shock of blonde. Long blond hair that cascaded loosely over her shoulders, she looked back with piercing green eyes and a half-smile that sent chills down his spine. Instinctively, his body knew. 

_ Her. _   
  


* * *

  
As she got off the expressway, later than she planned, she shot a quick text to a contact listed only as 'V'-  _ Just getting into town. I'm stopping at the condo to drop my bags, and then I'll be over! Can't wait to see you and Arch! _   
  
Why in the world she was even back here, let alone stopping at a condo that she now owned, was beyond her. What in the world had her parents been thinking when in the midst of their divorce, they both agreed to sign the remainder of their business over to their youngest daughter. It was the only thing they had agreed on in years, and for some reason, they had chosen now to start. It wasn't much, a small hometown newspaper. Her father had been living in New York since her senior year of high school, and her mother was excitedly retiring and moving to Florida with her much younger boyfriend, leaving "no one to run the Register", as her parents had put it.   
  
So- here she is. Back in the place she had left so many years ago, having recently purchased a small condo in the one place she thought she'd never live again. She hadn't packed much, most of it was scheduled to arrive on a truck from New York tomorrow, or she had ordered online and would be delivered this week. 

_ Shit _ . Her bed wasn't scheduled to arrive until Wednesday, and she hadn't ordered a new couch yet, which meant for the night at least, she didn't even have a place to sleep.   
  
Everything about this move and coming back here, had her feeling lost and confused. She had always had her life planned out, mapped out and color-coordinated, until the letter she received from her parents, stating they were leaving the Register to her, with the stipulation that she could not sell or close it for two years. Two years. She had a degree from Columbia and had worked for a publishing house in New York for the last four years, and now her parents expected her to run a newspaper, which just so conveniently was in the one place she avoided at all cost.   
  
It wasn't that growing up here had been awful, it was your typical small-town. Nothing ever happened, and the gossip that tends to follow small towns was suffocating. If it hadn’t been for  _ him _ , her childhood would have been vastly different. For as long as she could remember, he’d been by her side, in a grey crown beanie that was once too big for his head and that later dark brown curls would fall out of. 

Even years apart from each other, and he was still so ingrained in her life. Every quick-witted comment she had was once from him, every mystery novel she read held notes to him in the margins that he’d never read. They had never  _ actually _ dated, but he still set the standard for every date she’d ever been on, and none of them even came close to comparing to him. The years between them seeing or speaking to one another didn’t matter, he was still the only one, the only boy she saw. The only man now she reminded herself, eight years later he could hardly still be referred to as a 'boy'.   
  
Riverdale- The Town With Pep. That sign. She wanted to act surprised that nothing had changed, but it honestly wasn't surprising at all. She drove her car passed Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe (still the best burgers and milkshakes she'd ever had), passed the high school where she'd only survived with him by her side, passed the neighborhood she'd grown up in, before the only stoplight in town beckoned her with a beaming red light.   
  
She took note as she slowed down, of the black motorcycle stopped in the lane next to hers, the only other person around. The sight made her think of her friend, he had had a love of bikes always, and she wondered if he'd ever gotten his dream of owning one. She glanced briefly at the rider, wearing black boots, dark jeans and a black leather jacket. As her car pulled up alongside the bike, she turned to face the faceless rider, his appearance hidden by the full helmet he wore. A smile spread across her face, wondering again about her long-ago friend and if there would ever be a day when their paths would cross again.

* * *

  
_ Her. _   
  
The thought had barely registered in his head when the light changed to green, and just as fast as she'd come, she was gone again. He sat still for a moment, memories flooding through his brain, watching from afar as she took the next left turn down a small side street. Everything about this town held a memory of her- a place they'd gone together, a laugh they'd shared, a fleeting moment that was maybe something more. Glancing up once again, noticing the light had turned yellow brought him back to reality, and he took off on his bike. Past the road she had turned down, he turned right towards the downtown district.   
  
He saw it almost instantly, it seemed to loom overhead at him. The place that had been the closest thing to a home to him for most of high school, a tall ten-story building stood out amongst all the smaller businesses. He pulled up and stopped his bike in front of the building that read  _ The Pembrooke _ . He slid off of his bike, juggling his helmet in one hand as he grabbed his shoulder bag from one of the saddlebags. He stood back, staring up at the big oak door, trying to push aside his thoughts of her. She was here and he'd face her eventually, but tonight, he needed to face this.   
  
He pushed the large door open, his eyes marveling wide at the white marble flooring and the high ceilings, large gold chandeliers dangling down to greet him. In the years that he had lived in this place, he had never once gotten accustomed to the feeling he got when he first walked in the door. At the very center of the room, a small table sat with a fresh summer arrangement of flowers, just behind an elderly man, whose smile lit up when he saw the man before him.   
  
"Ahh, Mr. Jones! Welcome home!" The butler stepped softly across the floor, reaching his hand out to shake that of the man before him.   
  
"Smithers, I told you not to call me that." He reached out to shake the elderly man's hand, a smirk spreading across his face.   
  
"I'm sorry, Jughead. I won't keep you waiting, I know Ms. Lodge and Mr. Andrews are awaiting you upstairs. Have a good evening."   
  
He crossed the marble tile to the gold elevators at the back of the room, pressing the up button. Standing alone in the elevator, surrounded by his image reflected back in the mirrors that surrounded him, he got a sinking feeling in his stomach.  _ What was he doing back here? What was she doing back here? Had they planned this? Is that what V had needed him to come here for, because she was coming back _ ? He thought briefly of running, back down the stairs, past Smithers, back to the comfort of his bike, and back to the place he had come from. He could feign some work emergency and be gone as quickly as he had come.   
  
But the elevator stopped moving, and the doors opened wide. He stepped out into the hallway and found himself in front of the only door on the floor. His hand was up, curled and ready to knock when he remembered he still had a key. He reached down into his pocket, pulling it out and holding it in place inside the lock as for just a moment he hesitated. It wasn't too late. He could still run, he could still leave.   
  
Eight years. He felt like he'd been running for eight years. And not just running from this place, this town, but running from her, from his feelings for her, trying to grasp at what had been moments he had misconstrued. No. He'd been running for eight years and he needed to face this. This place, these feelings,  _ her _ .   
  
He pushed open the door, the sound of a bouncy pop song greeting him and he let out a groan. A small black fluffy dog rushed to the door, barking and jumping it was running so fast. "VERONICA!" His voice rang out over the sound of the loud music. He kicked his boots off at the door and padded in his stocking feet across the cold marble flooring. The little dog followed along, still barking and jumping behind him. As he stepped further into the apartment, he heard laughter and voices coming from the kitchen and groaned again when he was greeted with a rather unpleasant smell of burnt food. He started to walk towards the laughter, stopping only to take in the array of pictures that hung on the wall, pictures, of memories he remembered and memories he hadn't been a part of. And  _ her _ .   
  
"Veronica. I have been on the road for 12 hours today and I swear if you burned my dinner I might burn the apartment down." He stepped into the kitchen, taking in the sight of a tall redhead with broad shoulders wrapped around a tiny Latina with dark, jet black hair. They were laughing together, and he noticed two burnt pizzas sitting on the counter.   
  
"Don't go all Cheryl Blossom on us, Jug! We'll order take out! Welcome home!" The tiny girl unraveled herself from the tall redhead and bounced across the kitchen to wrap him in her arms. The tall redhead crossed the kitchen too, pulling the tiny girl aside and enveloping him in what could best be described as a bear hug.   
  
"Ugh, Arch. Too tight, too tight." He laughed, struggling to breathe under the strong arms that held him close.   
  
"Sorry, Jug. We're just glad you're home!"   
  
"Thanks, guys. I'm going to drop my bags in my room and grab a quick shower. Order that take-out, I'm starving!" He stepped out of the kitchen, down the hall to the spare bedroom on the right, that had been his bedroom for his last two years of high school. It smelled like lavender but looked like a time capsule. Nothing was different, the books he hadn't packed left behind to accumulate dust on the bookshelf over the years, he found a handful of flannel shirts hanging in the closet and a few lost t-shirts tucked away in a drawer. He flicked on the bedside lamp, and stared at the picture that had been placed there, years ago. Four friends, laughter on their faces, a memory long ago lost. A redheaded boy, a raven-haired girl, a tall brooding boy, and a beautiful blonde girl.  _ Her _ .   
  
He found little toiletries in the bathroom, little shampoos and soaps that made him feel like he was staying at a hotel instead of an apartment that had once been his home. Although, the Pembrooke often resembled more of a hotel than a home. He showered quickly, his stomach growling. As he stepped back into the room, grabbing a pair of jeans from his bag and a dark gray t-shirt, he could smell pizza calling his name. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, glancing once more at the picture when he leaned over to turn the light off. 

_ Her _ .

* * *

  
The condo seemed so cold and empty, none of her boxes had arrived yet, so all she was greeted with when she pushed open the door was wide open spaces. A decent-sized living room with a small balcony off to the left and an open area kitchen on the right. Down the hallway, she found a full bath with a washer and dryer tucked away in the closet. One bedroom off to the right and at the end of the hallway she found a larger bedroom with another full bath attached. That was it. It was a small space, but it looked much larger with nothing in it. It hadn't been that long of a drive up from the city, but she'd gotten started later than she had planned. She thought about taking a quick shower but decided only to splash some water on her face. She glanced down at the long-sleeved shirt and leggings combo she'd traveled in, deciding it would have to do, the rest of her clothes were packed in boxes that hadn't yet arrived. She grabbed a brush from her purse, running it through her hair, before applying a swipe of blush and mascara over her face.   
  
She stepped lightly back outside, back to her car, and steered it in the direction of the downtown district. Being back here, headed to the place that he had lived for the last few years of high school, brought back a flood of emotions. Memories of nights spent up late playing video games or trivia, sleepovers of four friends piled in front of the fire amongst a nest of blankets and pillows, watching football or hockey playoffs on the large screen TV that hung in the expansive living room.   
  
He had been more than just her friend, more than her best friend. Their little group, "The Core Four" as Veronica liked to call them, had this odd relationship with each other. Close, never pushing the boundaries, but close that from the outside it looked like there was no boundary. They didn't ever go anywhere not all together- parties, school dances, Pop's for burgers. To see one without the others was a rarity and usually an indication that something was wrong, like the time her parents had grounded her after she got caught sneaking back into the house after a bonfire by the river.   
  
Her mind flashed back to late nights curled on the couch next to him, or lying next to him on his bed, watching old South Park reruns or old classic movies. His arms had been her safety net, protecting her from the outside world. It had been eight years since she'd felt those arms around her, but she could still recall the smell of his body wash, the way his hair curled unrulingly out from under the grey beanie he always kept on his head, the way his eyes danced when he laughed.

  
She stopped her car in front of the Pembrooke and breathed. It had been a few years - she'd lost count - since she'd been back here since she'd seen two-thirds of the group that made up the three people she still considered her best friends. She grabbed her purse from the back seat, pausing only slightly to take notice of the black bike that sat parked a few spaces away from hers, before pushing open the large oak doors.   
  
"Ahh, Ms. Cooper! Welcome back!" She smiled at the elderly butler who stepped across the hard marble tile to greet her, reaching out his hand to grasp hers.   
  
"Hello, Smithers! Thank you, it's very good to see you, sir." She stepped lightly past him, tossing her bag up to her shoulder as she waited for the elevator. Staring at herself in the mirrored reflection, she wished she had taken the time to shower, or at least change her clothes. She felt under-dressed just being in this place, with all of its white marble and gold fixtures, accented by bright lights from the hanging chandeliers.   
  
The doors to the elevator opened, and she found herself standing in front of the only door in the hallway. She sighed, taking another deep breath, before knocking softly on the door. Loud music blared from the other side, and she wasn't sure at first if she'd been heard, she reached her hand up to knock again, but the door sprung open and she was engulfed with a mess of dark black hair and expensive perfume.   
  
She pulled back, taking in the small Latina, wearing a black form-fitting dress and pearls, tall black heels, a perfect face of makeup, and dark purple lipstick. Some things never change.   
  
"Welcome home, B!" Her voice was sharp and cheery as she ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. "You look good!"   
  
"Thanks, Ronnie. Look at you, though! You look like you're dressed for a night out, not a relaxing night in!"   
  
"Oh, come on. I got out of work late, I haven't had a chance to change yet." The blonde girl rolled her eyes at that statement, which caught a laugh from her friend. She stepped further into the apartment, and set her purse on the side table by the door, before slipping out of the soft gray flats she wore. Her bare feet were cold on the tile, and she wished she'd remembered to grab a pair of socks. She smelled a mix of lavender candles and pizza and heard a loud laugh coming from the kitchen.   
  
The raven-haired girl reached for her hand, giving it a slight squeeze before pulling her in the direction of that laugh. She'd know that laugh anywhere, she'd grown up hearing it almost every day. The girls rounded the corner, and she took in the bright red hair of the boy who had grown up in the house next to hers. He smiled and stepped across the kitchen, pulling her into a hug and picking her up to spin her around. She laughed, punching his shoulder as he set her back on the ground.   
  
She heard something hit the floor behind her, and she spun around, looking towards the corner by the door she had just come through. Somehow, she'd missed the fourth person in the room. He stood there in front of her, a dark curl falling in his face, dark jeans, and a gray shirt that hung to his muscles, more than she remembered him having. He seemed taller if that was possible at all, broader in the shoulders and chest, black marks tattered up his arm. The redhead next to her stepped back slightly, allowing the tall dark-haired man to step closer. For a moment, he simply stood in front of her, before his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his chest. She breathed in his scent, something she knew her body would never forget. He ran his fingers gently through her long hair, and she could have sworn she felt him smell it, before he pulled away and looked down at her with those piercing grey eyes.   
  
"Welcome home, Betts."


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She couldn’t change the past, couldn’t change the maybes and what could-have-been's, but maybe now things would be different. Maybe now they could change their future. 

She sank back into the counter as Veronica handed her a beer. There was so much she wanted to talk about with her, just the two of them. All of the emotions came rushing back over her - seeing him, feeling his arms wrap around her, driving these same streets. She swirled the beer around as she tried to keep up with the conversation around her. General small talk that takes place when people have gone years without seeing each other and only know the bits and pieces that get shared on social media. Like when Archie asked her about Jack, the lawyer she’d dated a few months ago. There wasn’t much to say, it hadn’t been overly serious. She asked Jughead about the curly-haired girl often in his pictures, but he said she was just a model he liked to work with who was more interested in females than in him. That had at least made her feel better, knowing there wasn’t some gorgeous model waiting for him back at home. 

Slowly, they’d found their way back into the living room, sinking into the furniture in front of the fire. It’d been years since they’d all been together, all been back in the same place at once. Growing up, their friendship had had this unique quality to it that not many do, a level of complete comfort and trust. She was settled into the spot next to him, his arm casually draped across her knee when she first noticed it. 

In high school, he’d been branded a Serpent briefly, but that had been the only tattoo that he bore. Now, his arm was covered in this beautiful mix of things. She traced her fingers along the dark ink, the way they twirled and twisted together to paint this picture of his life. A tiny crown, an outline of New York state, a jelly bean. He smiled at her as her fingers traced the ink, but when he leaned back, his hands coming to rest on the back of his head, she saw another. Small, tucked away on the underside of his wrist. She instinctively reached for it, having caught only a glance of the three initials, but he quickly pulled his arm away. 

She sat frozen for a moment, her eyes catching Archie’s and Veronica’s from across the room before standing up and stepping away into the kitchen. So quickly had the small group falling back into the comfort of one another, she’d momentarily forgotten that years had passed between them. They could no longer sit so close to one another, touching without hesitation while avoiding that conversation. 

Everything felt like it was crashing down around her at once. This town. This apartment. Being here with these friends.  _ Him. _

Her body began to shake and she leaned back into the counter to steady herself. Tears had at some point began rolling down her face, emotions she had been trying to force down bubbling over the surface. She kept her back to the door, trying to build up a wall between the world outside the kitchen, a wall around the strangers who had once been her closest friends. She didn’t hear the door quietly swing shut, only felt strong arms wrap around her waist, turning her around carefully and pulling her into his chest.

His smell was intoxicating and she felt herself sink into his chest, heaving sobs and shaking against him. He ran his hands through her hair again, pulling her in closer. When they were younger, and the world had gone crazy - her sister getting pregnant and running away, his dad getting involved in some drug running and going away to prison - they had held each other together. They had been each other's rock, a safety from the storm. And all the years that had passed between them, all the times that they had needed each other and hadn't been there, felt like they were hitting her all at once.

Maybe she should have told him how she felt years ago. Maybe instead of holding his hand while he kissed her forehead the day she left for college, she should have leaned up to meet his lips. Maybe she should have chased after him to Chicago, creating her dreams alongside his. She’d dreamed in high school of telling him, of having her feelings openly reciprocated, of being  _ his. _

In the end, she’d built a life around her dreams, a life that slowly he wasn’t a part of anymore, despite still starring in all her dreams. 

She wasn’t sure how long they’d stayed like that, arms wrapped around each other and her head nestled in the spot on his chest where it fit perfectly. Her tears stained his t-shirt and her body still shook, but he still held her. Soft fingers ran through her hair, a gentle kiss on the top of her head, it all felt so familiar and foreign at the same time. As if they’d never stopped doing this, never stopped having moments like this, never stopped being a part of each other’s lives. 

She couldn’t change the past, couldn’t change the maybes and _what-could-have-been's_ , but maybe now things would be different. Maybe now they could change their future. 

* * *

Maybe he should have told her about the tattoo on his wrist. Maybe he should have told her years ago how he felt, instead of holding her hand and placing a kiss to her forehead the day she left for college. Maybe he should have chased after her, creating his dreams alongside hers. But truthfully, she was the only dream he’d ever had. He’d built this life for himself that she wasn’t a part of, even though she’d been a part of it all along. 

He couldn’t change the maybe’s though, he couldn’t change the past. 

The arm wrapped around her tightened, pulling her even closer into his chest. He could feel the wetness from her tears on his shirt, tears from years of  _ maybes _ coming to the surface. 

Maybe they should have all done things differently, but maybe this was their chance to change their future. 

She pulled back, wiping at the mascara that ran down her cheeks, and had only said his name when Veronica and Archie came into the room. For a moment, holding her in his arms, he’d forgotten that Veronica had called him, called them all, back to Riverdale with a specific intention. 

He watched as Veronica sank into a barstool across from him, watched as Archie gently placed a hand on her back, and he knew. This was it, the reason they were here. 

* * *

They sat tucked tight around the kitchen table, he kept his hand linked firmly in hers, listening to the soft voice that came from the girl across the table. Words that seemed mumbled and foreign, that belonged in an anatomy lecture and not in a conversation amongst old friends. He watched as the redhead held one hand tightly around hers, one hand tightly on her back, and saw something in his eyes in the way he looked at her, that made him wonder how long he'd been looking at her like that. Tears rolled heavily from the cheeks of both girls, but only one continued to talk.

Everything seemed muffled as she spoke of diagnosis and treatment options, doctors' visits, and upcoming surgeries. She talked for what seemed like hours until she had nothing left to tell, and the four sat in stunned silence, punctured only by soft sobs. The redhead glanced up at the clock above the stove, commenting that it was already well after 3 in the morning, and silently they all moved away from the table and made their way to a room in the back of the apartment, and climbing into bed together, surrounding Veronica. Arms were tangled over arms and legs, soft blankets pulled tight over the four, he wasn't sure how long he laid there before he fell asleep, or if he even did.

He thought of long ago memories, nights they had spent like this, all wrapped up together in the same bed. Memories that were fuzzy from alcohol or exhaustion from a day spent on the river, where they would just collapse together in one heap. To the outside world, there might have seemed to be something  _ more _ to their friendship. There hadn’t ever been, just four people who had chosen to do life together - all of the heartbreak and awkwardness and life-lessons - and had found in one another a complete and total comfort. He sighed into the blonde hair that was laid out in front of him, struggling to imagine that he was here, in this moment, with these friends.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her eyes danced and sparkled and in that moment, he knew he could be whatever she needed him to be, always by her side and never faltering.

The sun crept in through the soft white curtains, shining brightly and seeming to tease her heart about the night before. She stirred softly under the weight of strong arms, her eyes fluttering open to see one thick, strong arm, and one tattooed arm wrapped across her, engulfing her and the small raven-haired girl that lay curled next to her. She reached up to trace the lines on her face, taking in the beauty that was her best friend and felt tears swell in her eyes. So beautiful and so strong, so opinionated and so fierce, so  _ alive _ . She thought of life growing up with the gorgeous girl by her side- ballet classes, cheering at high school football games, sneaking flasks of Schnapps into the movie theatre, so many mani-pedi dates and shopping sprees. Late-night phone calls and sleepovers. She thought of the last time she had visited, watching her in front of a class of small, impressionable 4-year-olds, showing them the proper plie technique. Veronica had only ever dreamed of being a dance instructor and was proud of the work she did at the studio, proud of her small dance troupe. She ran her fingers through the dark hair that mingled with her own bright blonde and felt a movement from the body behind hers.   
  
She leaned back, turning her head slightly, and watched as he stretched and opened his eyes to the day. He was so handsome, more handsome than she had remembered, and more handsome than the pictures he posted online. She reached up lazily to twirl the unruly curl that always fell in his face, and he reached down to stroke her face, before reaching for her arm and tugging her lightly from the bed.   
  
They stepped lightly away, wrapping the blankets tighter around the two friends still sleeping, before stepping out of the room and into the hallway. She stretched and stared sleepily into his eyes, before falling into his chest. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her as no tears fell, but feeling all of the pain that she felt. He stood there, silently, holding her, for what felt like hours but had only been a matter of minutes, before she pulled back slightly- his stomach had growled.   
  
"Do you mind if I borrow your shower? Order breakfast or cook?"   
  
"I'd rather cook, but let me see what V has here first, you know how she is about grocery shopping." She felt his lips softly on her forehead before she turned to step lightly down the hallway into the room that had once been his bedroom. It smelled like lavender but looked exactly the way it had eight years ago. Left behind books sat on his bookshelf with more dust than they had years ago, a picture of the four friends sat on his bedside table. She picked it up to stare at the picture, remembering the day from long ago. The last day of their senior year, all gathered together in their caps and gowns, laughter on their faces as they huddled together as close as they could get. There was something sweet and innocent in the picture, four friends who had spent a lifetime together and thought things would never change, but they had changed so much. Years had passed and life had taken over, now threatening to tear them apart forever. She felt tears well up again, as she placed the picture back on the table and stepped away into the bathroom. She smiled at the small toiletries, making her feel like she was staying in a hotel instead of an apartment.   
  
She spent longer than she planned, standing there, letting the warm water spread over her, a cleansing of sorts. Stepping out and reaching for a towel, she remembered she only had the clothes she'd slept in last night. She padded softly back into the bedroom, sifting through drawers before finding an old pair of sweats and t-shirt, reaching for an old flannel from the closet. She ran a comb through her hair, brushed her teeth with an unopened toothbrush she found under the sink. The door was pushed open, the smell of bacon and waffles and coffee wafting in from the kitchen down the hall.   
  
She sat softly at the island, watching as he poured a mug and added creamer before silently sliding the mug across the counter to her. He leaned back against the counter, holding his own mug, never taking his eyes off her face. There's something unique about lifelong friendships, those moments of silence where nothing needs to be said because everything is already known. It wasn't more than a moment before they were joined by the tall redhead, leaning down to kiss her forehead before grabbing a mug of coffee for himself.   
  
"She'll probably sleep for a few hours still; she hasn't started treatments yet, but she's constantly exhausted. She tried hard to put on a good face yesterday." He grabbed a piece of bacon straight from the pan, leaning against the counter next to the boy in the beanie.   
  
"Arch." She wanted to say so much more, but no words would form in her mouth.   
  
"B, after breakfast, we'll head over to your apartment and help you unpack. She needs rest and quiet today. Maybe we'll grab Pop's take-out for dinner and bring it back here tonight." She saw the hurt in his face, the pain that he had felt from being alone in this with her, and she knew there was no sense in arguing with him. She wanted to spend every available moment with her friend, but if what she needed most was rest and quiet, there was no point in upsetting that, at least not yet.   
  
She washed up the dishes from breakfast, leaving a small amount in the fridge with a note, in case she woke up hungry, although Archie insisted she didn't have much of an appetite lately. The three quietly stepped out the door, not speaking in the elevator, not until they were outside when she remembered he had ridden his bike here. Archie started to reach for the passenger door of her red convertible, before she tossed the keys to him, letting him drive. She sank into the passenger seat, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.   
  
Being back in this town, being surrounded by her friends. Feeling Jughead’s strong arms around her, falling into his laughter and his smile. Everything she had thought she didn't feel still, had bubbled up to the surface in a matter of hours. The news from Veronica had changed everything though, pushing the feelings aside for the time being. She had beckoned them all home to her, and like they had done so many times before, they would stand together, pushing aside the years of neglect between them.   
  
She glanced over at the friend in the seat next to her, marveling at the softness on his face as he expertly turned her car through the streets of their hometown. She wondered how long he'd known, how long he'd stood by her by himself, how long he'd taken her to appointments and visits alone. How long had he been the only support, before she had caved and called the others? What now, had made her call them home to her? There was so much more to everything that was still waiting to be revealed, more to their friendship that hadn't been unturned, more to Veronica's illness that wasn't spoken of. It had only been one night, but it felt like so much had been mended, it was hard to see how much was still left untouched.   
  
As they pulled into her apartment space, Jughead pulled his bike into the space next to them. Being even in close proximity with him, brought her a sense of clarity, a sense of relief, a sense of comfort. She felt like she'd ran from him, from her feelings for him, for so many years, that being here with him- she wanted to stop running, wanted to stop hiding. Sure, over the years she'd dated other guys, but looking back, they had all been tall, dark-haired. It was like she was trying to find him in everyone she saw, everyone she dated and brought back to her apartment, trying to find the  _ him _ she had left behind. But there was only one, only one him, only one them. No one else would ever fill the void he had left in her heart when they parted ways, no one else would ever measure up.   
  
He stepped over to her side, wrapping one arm around her and taking her bag in his other, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She leaned her head into his arm, an unspoken comfort just being near each other. The three friends stepped together up the stairs to the apartment, noticing the pile of boxes that stood in the hallway outside of the door. One by one, they carried them inside, placing them in the room marked on the outside of the box.   
  
When all of the boxes were inside, the three stood in the center of the living room, all leaned close together, not sure what to do next, where to go from here. She stood there, one hand linked tightly with each the redheaded boy, one hand linked tightly with the dark-haired boy, wondering how many months or years they had, until it would only ever be the three of them, forever. She could hardly even begin to grasp the challenges that lay ahead of them, the way their lives would be forever changed. When they were younger, it felt like they could take on the world, if only they were all together. But here they stood, all together again, facing a world that was threatening to tear them apart.

* * *

The following days passed in a similar fashion, dinners at Veronica's apartment, followed by evenings of talking or watching movies before all falling asleep together in the same bed. Days spent at Betty's, or around Riverdale, down at the river or even just in a booth at Pop's. Some days Veronica would join, but most days she stayed at home to rest. The four fell easily into a routine as if no time or pain had passed between them. The more time he spent with her - watching her eyes dance when she laughed, leaning into his arm or casually holding his hand - the more the feelings he had always felt for her bubbled to the surface.   
  
He’d only managed a week off work and too soon it was Saturday and he was staring down a 12-hour drive the following day. It had been an especially tiring day for Veronica, they had gone to the beach by the river, and although she hadn't gone in the water, she'd been asleep since they got home, sleeping through dinner, and he knew she'd sleep through the night. He sat on the edge of her bed, rolling her hair between his fingers before bending down to kiss her forehead and slipping quietly out of the room. He found Archie and Betty leaning against the counters in the kitchen, she had a look on her face of deep concern, and he seemed sullen. She looked up to meet his eyes, and he felt her pain, but knew there was more she needed to say. She squeezed the hand of the redhead next to her, leaning up to kiss his cheek, before whispering to him, "I'll think about it."   
  
She stepped closer to where he stood, reaching for his hand, meeting his eyes again. "I'm not staying here tonight, I need a minute alone. If you want, you can stay here, or you can stay with me." He knew she wasn't implying that he stay the night with her so something else could happen between them, but he knew her well enough to know that something was bothering her. There had been many nights, when they were younger, spent just the two of them, tangled in a bed together, and it had become a comforting ritual, for both of them. When the world would go to shit around them, they would find solace in nights spent in each other's arms, a sense of security that never developed into anything more.   
  
"Betty." The redhead spoke, pushing himself up away from the counter, stepping over to where the two friends stood so closely.   
  
"Archie, this decision doesn't just impact us, it impacts Jughead too. This needs to be something we all agree on, together." He watched as the blonde shot a look up at the redhead, something fierce behind her eyes that sent shivers down his spine.   
  
"I don't see how. I don't see why he needs a say in this."   
  
"He does because I say he does." Her voice was raised above a whisper, he started to worry she'd wake Veronica, but he soon realized that wasn't a problem, as the small Latina entered the kitchen, wrapped in an old sweatshirt of Archie's and a pair of leggings. She stepped close to the redhead, curling herself into his strong arms.   
  
"Jughead, you might want to sit down." Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, and he slid into one of the barstools beside the island. Betty sat down next to him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it lightly. "There's something more we need to tell you." He watched as Veronica glanced up at Archie, before glancing back at him. "Archie and I… we've been seeing each other for a while. Before I got sick. We had plans, for something more for us, and then we got the news…" Her voice trailed off silently, tears had started to fall from her cheeks.   
  
The blonde next to him held his hand tighter, turning her face up to meet his. "They've asked me to carry a baby for them. To be their surrogate…"   
  
It took his brain a moment for the words to register before his mind was racked with a series of questions. Why did Betty want his input on this? Why did this impact him? She couldn't really have meant what she said, did she? It took his brain a moment to catch up with the words she had said, he looked over to meet her eyes, but her head was down, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. This decision was all hers, but when she turned her eyes up to meet his, he felt it. That maybe somehow, over the years, over the week they had spent together, she had thought of him in the same way he thought of her, something more. That maybe somewhere down the line, maybe years down the line, Betty Cooper imagined a life for herself with him, and carrying a baby for their friends might change that, might change the life they had together, and she wanted him to have a say in their decision. He wasn't sure what this meant, for them, for all of them, what she wanted, what he wanted.

The four of them had always been something closer than friends, more of a family unit. Something like this would forever alter everything. He had a flash of a moment of a few years down the road, the four close friends piled into a booth at Pop's, a bouncing red-headed toddler squeezed into the booth beside them, knowing the four of them had all had a part in this, a part in raising this child. Knowing that all the years of their friendship had culminated in the creation of this toddler between them, that they would pass all their best qualities onto this small human.   
  
He knew he was not essential to this plotline, that he could say 'no' and this toddler could still be created. He could walk away right now, drive back to Chicago, put years of distance between him and his friends, and the small life could still enter the world. But she wanted his opinion, she wanted his input, she wanted him to be a part of this, with her. In this instant, he couldn't possibly imagine all the ways that she would need him in the coming months, in the coming years even, but he knew, he understood what she was asking him. She needed him by her side, to hold her and support her when there was no one else. This choice was changing all their lives - there would be no going back from this.   
  
He squeezed her hand softly, looking up to meet her face, tears in her eyes. "Let's talk about this tonight. We'll see you tomorrow for breakfast."   
  
The four friends said their goodbyes, soft kisses exchanged between them. He watched as she squeezed the hand of her raven-haired friend, he saw the pain in the redhead's face. This decision they were facing could not be an easy one, and he felt like they had aged years in the week he had been back here.   
  
They stepped lightly out into the warm evening air, still hand in hand. For a moment, they stood at the curb, staring at her convertible and his bike, not wanting to even be apart for the short drive to her apartment. After hesitating for a moment, he reached for the bike, tossing her a spare helmet before helping her slide on. Her arms wrapped tight against his waist, hands grabbing around his chest, he knew she was afraid, but he also knew the clarity and peace that being on the bike brought him. He turned the bike away from town, away from her apartment and out into the open roads that lead out towards the river. He turned off an old access road and felt her arms grip him tighter as the road turned from gravel to dirt. He twisted and turned, ducking and dodging tree branches that had long since overgrown, before pulling the bike out into a clearing.   
  
She stepped off slowly and he reached for her arm to steady her, knowing her legs would be shaky and unsteady. She walked to the edge of the clearing, staring out at the city that laid out before her, and he watched as her body was wracked with sobs, shaking and heaving uncontrollably. He pulled her into his arms, holding her back close to his chest, kissing her softly on the top of her head, breathing in that smell of coconut and vanilla again.   
  
They stood like that for a moment, before he sat down in the tall grass, pulling her down into his lap with him, watching as the sunset behind the town below them. The moments passed, and it grew darker all around them.   
  
"Betts." His voice cut into the darkness, breaking up the silence that had sat between them. "I can't make this decision for you…"   
  
She leaned back further against his chest leaning her head up to look at his eyes. "I don't want you to make this decision for me. I've already made up my mind. But I need to know you'll be there for me, during and after. I don't want to be alone in this…"   
  
"Elizabeth, I will never leave you alone in this. I will always be there to hold your hand or your hair, to be whatever it is you want me to be." He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. In the soft glow of the city lights, he pushed up his right sleeve, rolling his wrist over to show her the small tattoo.   
  
Her fingers traced lightly over it, so small her thumb covered it completely. "EAC." Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. She tilted her head back, her thumb still over his tattoo, meeting his grey eyes with her bright green. Her face wore a look of confusion that turned into a smirk.

"Is this what I think it is?" Her eyes danced and sparkled and in that moment, he knew he could be whatever she needed him to be, always by her side and never faltering.   
  
"Elizabeth Ann Cooper." The words were barely from his mouth before her soft lips grazed against his. Barely grazed against his. Something so soft it felt like a familiar greeting, but there was more behind it. His hand reached up to grasp her face, tracing his thumb along her jawline before he pulled her, ever so slightly closer to him, and met her lips with his.   
  
Her fingers wrapped into his hair, pulling him closer to her, while her tongue flicked out grazing along his bottom lip. He moaned against her, as years of emotions overpoured into her lips. Hours could have passed as they stayed there like that, holding each other and stealing kisses, staring out over the city below them, before she stirred gently in his lap, reaching for his hand pulling him up to her. He guided the bike back through the trees, back through town, back to her small apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @miss-eee


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many years had they missed out on, how much time had they let pass between them, that could have been lazy mornings spent exactly like this? If confessions would have come years earlier, where would they be now? A place that was both their own, a city they had made memories together in, a classic cut diamond ring, a small bundle that they had created? What different life would they have, if they had chosen a life together?

He wakes just moments before the alarm. It is still dark outside, too early to be awake on the weekend. He stretches slowly, careful not to wake the sleeping blonde next to him. As quietly as he can, he steps down the hall, brewing himself a fresh cup of dark roast before finding a seat outside on her small patio. 

The sun is still hours from beginning to make an appearance as he slowly sips the mug. His thoughts are racing -- back over the PG-13 grope fest of the night before, of Veronica’s illness and her sudden proclamation, of his impending return to Chicago. 

It’d only been a week, but everything had changed. He doesn’t want to leave her; he doesn’t want her to face the days ahead without him. Doctor's visits and appointments, vomit, and cravings, watching her body swell and grow, he wants to be there for it all. He had never imagined her pregnant, never in all of the years they had been friends, and now, knowing she would be, it pains him to know she’d be alone. He could make promise after promise to be there for her through it all, but he isn't sure they are promises he can keep. It’s a long-distance between Chicago and Riverdale; plane rides, phone calls, and Skypes would only go so far. His mind is reeling - running possibilities and calculating finances. By the time the sun starts to rise in the distance, he’d already formulated a plan in his head, already drafted the letter to his boss asking to relocate and work remotely. 

He pours her a mug of coffee with the right amount of creamer and sets it carefully on the bedside table. Leaning over her, he places a soft kiss to her forehead, watching as she slowly stirs awake. Her hand reaches out, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him down into the bed beside her. His arm loops over her, pulling her tighter to his chest as he runs his fingers through her hair.    
  


“Betty-” His voice comes out soft, breathy against her lips as he tries to soak up as much as he can. He might have plans and dreams of coming back here, of moving his boxes into the spare bedroom of her condo and being her support, but if that is his plan, there are still boxes that need to be packed. Still an apartment to list, a boss to speak with, mail to forward. 

“Betty.” Her arms wrap tighter around him, her body curls against his.

“Jug-”

“Betts. I need to ask you something. And I understand that this might not be the right time, but-” His voice trails off, his nerves getting the best of him. Glancing down at the blonde in his arms, he knows. He knows everything is worth it -- worth giving up, if it means a chance at a second first chance. 

  
"We're meeting V and Arch at 6." Her voice is soft and raspy in that first early morning breath kind of way. How many thousands of mornings before had he woken up, snuggled close to her side, hearing her morning voice? But nothing had ever sounded as sweet as her voice this morning. She curls closer into his side, wrapping her arms tighter around him. "I wish I could wake up with you every morning." Her breath is soft against his bare chest, speaking truths that should have been said years ago.

“Betty. I have to go back to Chicago today, but if I were to have some things shipped here, if I were to come back to Riverdale permanently, could I sleep in your spare bedroom?”

“Jug- did you just ask to move in with me?” He could feel her heart racing, tucked in close against his chest.   
  
She smiles against his mouth, as his soft lips mingle with hers. How many years had they missed out on, how much time had they let pass between them, that could have been lazy mornings spent exactly like this? If confessions would have come years earlier, where would they be now? A place that was both their own, a city they had made memories together in, a classic cut diamond ring, a small bundle that they had created? What different life would they have, if they had chosen a life together?   
  
Somehow, they manage to untangle themselves, manage to shower and dress for the day (separately, so as not to derail their slow-moving progress). It is early still, but the summer air hangs heavy as they step out of the condo, back to the bike. In the momentary post-makeout-fog, he’d forgotten they’d ridden the bike the night before, and he thinks briefly about telling her to change out of her denim shorts. But when she climbs onto the back of the bike, her bare legs pressed tight against his denim, he loses all words. Somehow, he manages to successfully guide the bike through town and into the parking lot of Pop’s.    
  
He holds her hand to help her off the bike, holds her hand as he opens the door for her, holds her hand as she slides into the booth across from their friends, holds her hand as she orders pancakes. The four friends talk, not about the large elephant looming over them, but about everything else. About his job at the photography studio in Chicago, about her plans for the Register, about Veronica's dance studio, about Archie's construction business that he runs with his dad, about Jughead’s recent plans to relocate. He feels her hand grip his tighter, fingers softly tracing over his knuckles. It isn’t something they’d discussed yet, but Veronica brought up moving back to the city and the conversation moved forward, away from his big proclamation.   
  
And then it comes. The conversation falls silent and he notices a questioning look, as the two friends on the other side of the booth take notice of the closeness of the two friends across from them. He tightens his grip on her hand as she leans in closer to him, nestling into his shoulder.   
  
"We can talk logistics and appointments later, V. But I'll do this... we'll do this for you…" He listens as her voice trails off; there isn't much more than that to say. The smile on the raven-haired girl gives him promise that they'd made the right choice, and he knows that if the situation was flipped, she would do the same for them.   


* * *

  
The weeks fly by, and then everything kind of happened at once. She’d technically never agreed to him moving in, but a box of his things had arrived on her doorstep. Still unsure of what this new “friends-who-make-out” thing is, he takes the spare bedroom. 

It only takes a week for her to fall for him all over again: the way his arms wrap around her, the way her heart skips when he looks at her, the way she melts against him when he kisses her. It had only been a month since he’d moved in, but everything had shifted between them. What had once been her closest friendship, had shifted into something else, something more, and she was still trying to work out what that something more was. She would have never asked him to upheave his life in Chicago just because they’d shared a few kisses, even if they were kisses that were life-altering. 

They easily fall into this routine together of domesticated bliss, and honestly, some days Betty waits for it all to come crashing down. They’d gone from years without seeing each other to living together and maybe dating, and everything still seemed too perfect, too easy. Breakfast together in the mornings before heading to the Register, even if it only includes a quick cup of coffee to go. Saturday mornings are spent lazily on the couch, eating bowls of cereal and catching up on the Jimmy Fallon episodes they missed during the week. Every Sunday night, they would watch Game of Thrones together while binging on pizza that Betty insisted is better than anything she’d had in New York. She isn't sure if they are still  _ only _ friends, or if they are something else now. It'd been only two months since that first kiss, and even though she kisses him goodbye every morning when she leaves, they had yet to define the relationship. 

She spends most of her days with busy, long hours at the Register trying to make sense of files, creating a layout and a plan for the paper. Times had changed since her parents had first acquired the Register, and now it is updated daily online, with only a hard copy printed once a week. She is thankful for this, knowing in the coming months the time and energy it would take to produce a daily hard copy paper would be taxing for her. She’s hired two interns from the high school, thankful to have some assistance with writing the bulk of the paper. At the same time, she’s also hoping she can impart some of her wisdom on them. 

At night, she comes home to a finally completely furnished apartment and Jughead, her best friend/roommate and maybe-boyfriend. They’d decided to fill the apartment with mostly refurbished pieces; it’s therapeutic to her -- finding that piece at a yard sale, stripping the paint and restaining or painting it a fresh new color. It reminds her a lot of her life: she had stripped away the old New York and is painting a fresh coat of Riverdale. She paints the walls a soft beige, buys a light tan couch and some soft pink throws. As much as she had hated the color in high school, when her mother had plastered her room in so much pink it looked like Pepto-Bismol throw up, she finds the soft color accent soothing to her. He’d grumbled at first, about the pink accent, but she’d came home from work late one night to find him wrapped in the soft sherpa throw and he’d finally admitted defeat. The apartment is finished off with sepia toned photographs -- her sister and her niece and nephew, pictures of the four friends, pictures of New York and Chicago, vanilla scented candles and fresh cut pink peonies that she gets from the local market once a week. It is so different from her apartment in New York, which had been all greys and black, hard and cold. This feels warm, soft, comforting, safe.

  
She is kept busy between restarting the Register and her newfound love of decorating, but she still manages to meet Veronica and Archie for lunch every day. It feels bittersweet, watching how happy and in love her two friends were, but knowing the uncertainty that faces them. Veronica hadn't started treatments yet; she wants to wait until after the eggs are extracted, so her doctors have her on limited activity which means that most of their meetings either occur in a booth at Pop's or on Veronica's couch. Most weekends, Archie and Jughead would let them be, while they binge watched all 10 seasons of Friends, and spent countless hours watching classic Molly Ringwald films. It feels like high school again, staying up painting their nails and talking about boys.  _ The boys _ .

  
Veronica was very curious about the new development in her relationship with their other best friend, but there isn't much to say. How do you explain that you’ve always been in love with your new roommate, who you just so happen to kiss every morning but haven’t discussed further what this  _ thing _ between you is?

On a Wednesday, six weeks after Jughead had moved in, Veronica was feeling well enough to eat at Pop’s, and so the two were settled into a booth side by side, sharing a plate of french fries. Veronica reaches for a fry, dripping it through the ketchup, when her bare nails caught Betty’s eye. In all of the years that they had been friends, Veronica Lodge had never not had a perfect manicure, and Betty could almost feel the pain and exhaustion that radiated from her friend. 

Betty tries to redirect the conversation, away from her maybe-boyfriend, but it is difficult, seeing as how only this morning she’d caught him leaving the bathroom after his shower with only a towel slung low around his waist. They’d yet to do anything beyond their daily make-out sessions and seeing him like  _ that _ makes her wonder why they were waiting. 

“B -- you’re blushing. Anything you’d like to share about a certain new roomie of yours?” 

As Betty regales Veronica with the story of her morning, and other slightly less sordid tales, she watches as her friend’s face softens, momentarily pain-free and relaxed. 

“V, he has a tattoo of my initials on his wrist… I just, I don’t want to rush things. Are we going too fast? I mean, he’s already moved in and we haven’t even defined our relationship yet.”

“Defined the relationship? Betty, this isn’t some random guy you met at a bar, it’s Jughead. You two have been in love with each other since you were five. I’m still not sure how it’s taken you both so long to figure this out, but the boy uprooted his life and moved back here, for you. If that’s not  _ defining the relationship _ then I’m not sure what is.”

She knows Veronica is right. She spends the afternoon trying to focus on tomorrow’s articles, but she’d already edited them eleven times and her brain kept formulating plans and running through worst-case scenarios. What if she opens up to him, and tells him she want to be more than just roommates and in a pseudo-partnership, and wants something real with him? What if he tells her the only reason he came back was to be there for Veronica and the baby and was only staying with her to give Archie and Veronica space?

It grows late as she sits there, rereading the articles for tomorrow’s publication, searching to find mistakes she knows aren’t there, but avoiding the fact that she is avoiding her apartment. 

The bell that hangs above the door chimes and a moment of panic washes over her. She probably should get in the habit of locking the door when she’s working late by herself, but she breathes a sigh of relief as she rounds the corner and sees  _ him _ standing there. 

“I thought I’d find you here. Let's go home, Betts." Home. She is sure he isn't remotely aware of what he had said but the possibility of her home being his home makes her stomach flutter.

He steps forward, lifting her chin slightly, gazing into her eyes, seeking that assurance that he needs. That what transpired between them each morning, gentle kisses and lingering touches, wasn't just an  _ in-a-routine thing _ , but an  _ everything _ . She sighs and leans into him, her forehead lightly hitting his. He laughs, before pulling her back just enough, so that his lips could find hers.   
  
It is one of those kisses from a movie scene: an unspoken confession and a reassurance. She melts into his arms, melts underneath his kiss. She is hopeless to make any movement besides being there in that moment with him. It seems like hours, but only minutes had passed, and he pulls away slightly, kissing her on her forehead before reaching for her bag behind her desk with one hand, grabbing her hand with his other.   
  
She lets him drive, sitting back in the passenger seat, watching him expertly navigate the twists and turns through town, a slight smile on his face as he tests the power behind her car. He keeps a firm grip on her left hand, and she trails her thumb over that tattoo on his right wrist.   
  
"Can we talk about this?" She asks, not sure which "this" he would reply to.   
  
"The tattoo? I got it shortly after I left Riverdale. I ended up lost on the southside of Chicago, wandered around for almost an hour, until I found this little tattoo shop. It was late, about 2 in the morning, and they were the only place that was open, so I stopped to ask for directions. And well…"   
  
"But why me?" He turns to look at her; his eyes aren't dancing, his face is intense.   
  
"Because it's always been you. When the world outside went to shit, you were always what kept me grounded, what kept me sane. I was so lost in Chicago without you. I thought I could do it, I thought I could take on the world without you, and I couldn't. It reminds me of everything -- the good in the world, that somewhere out there is the most beautiful girl with the most beautiful soul, who loves in spite of all the hurt around her, who chose to love me in her own way, who chose me as her safety net, me as her beacon when the world went to shit. It's always been you, Betts. You've always been the best thing about me."   
  
"Juggie-" The words she’s trying to form are lost. There is nothing else to say, except that one thing that is lingering still.   
  
"Elizabeth Ann Cooper. I have been in love with you since that day when you threw mud at my face when we were 3 years old. I'm in love with you, still. I love you."   
  
Those words keep repeating over and over in her head as she stares into his eyes. She feels her breath catch in her throat. She isn't sure when she had started to cry, but she feels the tears falling to her cheeks. He is in love with her. She feels like her heart is soaring, like the sun had never shown brighter than it did in that moment, like she had never spent years without him.   
  
"Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third. I love you."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, glad you're still here! This chapters delay was brought to you by: a zine submission, a teething infant, a much needed mini-escape and three complete rewrites.


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answering these questions would change everything. Lingering kisses and domesticated bliss were one thing, but this, this was something else.

Don't ever tell a girl you love her for the first time when you're driving. 

What was he thinking?

All he wanted to do was pull the car over. But no, Veronica would be angry if they were even a minute late to dinner, so he had to settle for kissing her hand.

The second he pulled into the parking lot of Pop's and had put the car in park, he was leaning over the center console, pulling her in closer. She ran her hands up his arms, tugging at his hair, sighing into his mouth. His body ached for her, and short of pulling her across the center and unto his lap, he couldn't possibly get any closer to her.

"We really need to work on our timing." Her voice was soft as she pulled away from him, her fingers still tightly woven into his hair. "We're going to be late."

He glanced up and happened to catch the eye of Veronica, staring at him from inside the diner, tapping her fingers on her wrist.

"Fine- we've already been spotted, I give it 5 more minutes before Veronica comes out here." He pulled away, already missing her being so close, the feel of her lips on his. He gripped her hand tightly as he opened the door to the diner, placing his other hand on the small of her back to guide her.

"FINALLY. Sit down, I already ordered for you." There was nothing kind in her voice, no welcoming greeting.

"Good to see you too, V."

" Jug, don’t act like you weren’t at the Pembrooke all afternoon playing Mario Kart with Archie. There's something else we need to talk about, though... my dad."

"What about your dad, Ronnie?" The look on Veronica’s face was almost terrifying. She was always immaculate and well put together, but something in her eyes seemed frazzled, like her pearls were just slightly off-kilter. To be truthful, Veronica's dad was terrifying. Tall, dark-haired, he was a business tycoon, involved in multiple different industries and real estate properties. He had gone to prison their sophomore year, for his part in a drug-running scheme that he'd somehow gotten involved in with Jughead's dad. It was a huge mess. And even though Jughead was living at the Pembrooke when Mr. Lodge was released from prison, and they had temporarily lived together, he still got the feeling that the older Lodge was not fond of the younger Jones.

"He wants you both to sign a contract before we begin this process. He thinks we need to have everything in place and discuss monetary compensation."

"Money?" She gripped his hand tighter, her voice was so soft, he didn't hear her at first, and spoke over her.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"It's all in the paper's daddy's lawyers have drawn up. But since you are Betty's partner, there are some things you need to know about as well."

"Her partner?" He glanced over at her, her green eyes staring back at her with a look of sheer confusion.

"Well, are you two, or are you two not, together?” Answering these questions would change everything. Lingering kisses and domesticated bliss were one thing, but  _ this _ , this was something else. He was still staring into her green eyes, watching the way they sparked with wonder and hope, remembering the way her 'I love you' had sounded, how soft her lips were on his. He could sit here and fight this, these feelings, this commitment, for a thousand years, and it wouldn't matter, because it would still be the same. He loved her, he wanted everything with her, he wanted a lifetime of her by his side.

"We are, and I am." His voice was strong, not faltering, and his eyes never left hers. He reached his hand up, to wipe a tear from Betty’s cheek, and she caught his hand with her hand, holding him there, leaning her cheek into his hand.

He could spend hours staring into her green eyes, confessing all of his love for her, all of his plans for their future, but the raven-haired girl across the booth cleared her throat, breaking into their moment.

"That's great, we're happy for you guys. I promise. But my dad? Let's just say he's less than thrilled." He broke his eyes away from hers, turning his attention to the girl across from him. "You need to be prepared, he's waiting for you back at the Pembrooke. "

* * *

She had somehow managed to make it through the rest of dinner, but she couldn't really remember everything Veronica had said. She'd been too busy lost in his grey eyes, still on that high from the words they’d exchanged earlier.

But she hadn’t been entirely terrified of coming out to their friends. In truth, she was thrilled. In a matter of hours, he'd not only told her he loved her, but also assuaged her fears that he had only moved back to Riverdale because of Veronica’s illness and the whole possibly/soon-to-be pregnant thing, but that he had moved back for her too.

What she was terrified of, though, was Hiram Lodge. He had always been the doting father, Veronica the perfect definition of a "daddy's girl", but when he had gone away to prison their sophomore year for some dealings with Jughead's father, he came back changed. He was angrier, harsher, his demeanor resembling something more of  _ The Godfather _ than  _ The Family Man. _ Everything was business, everything had an end result, everything was carefully structured. The fact that he wanted to meet with both her and Jughead was terrifying.

Sure, she had known going into this, there were legalities. That just smiling prettily and saying  _ "Sure, I'll birth your child," _ was not all that was involved. She hadn't imagined a monetary amount, hadn’t even thought of medical expenses. But, this was Hiram Lodge, and everything he did was approached strictly from a business standpoint.

* * *

Once dinner was over and the tab paid, he kept a tight grip on her hand as he guided her out of the diner and back to her car, reaching for her keys and sliding into the driver's seat without asking. This he knew she was thankful for, him asserting control over the situation, because she seemed to still be lost in her thoughts. The drive to the Pembrooke was quick, and even though he had spent a lot of time here recently, he still marveled at its beauty. The gold accents and white marble never failed to amaze him.

The three friends were silent in the elevator, their reflections staring back at them in the mirrors. His hand never left hers, squeezing tighter ever so softly as Veronica turned her key in the door.

Once inside, he was greeted by a strong hand smacking his back, turning to see Archie with a look of terror and gratefulness on his face. Honestly, telling Hiram Lodge you wanted to create a baby with his only daughter whose health was failing, probably hadn't been the easiest conversation to have, but the one he was about to endure seemed almost as bad. The apartment had an eerie quality to it. It seemed quiet, but almost like the quiet had come on suddenly, like loud yelling had been occurring but immediately stopped when a key was heard turning in the door.

Still gripping Betty's hand tightly, he guided her into the apartment, through the dining room, into the living room. There, leaned back in the chair by the fire, one knee crossed over the other, staring at the flames, was Hiram Lodge. Short cropped dark hair that was peppered with more gray than he remembered, black suit with a crisp white shirt, dark black tie. Sitting there, alone by the fire, he looked terrifying. There was something in his demeanor, the way he approached every situation as a business transaction. He didn't remember Hiram from when they were kids, but he remembered what it had been like to live with the man. Cold and calculating. Veronica had insisted he hadn't always been like this, but as the only daughter and heir to Lodge Industries, she was exposed to a different side of him than most. The side that showered her in pearls and credit cards, even when he was in prison she had everything she ever asked for. And now she had asked for this.

"Daddy…" Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but the man stirred from his seat in front of the fire, looking up to greet those that had entered the room.

"Ahh, Ms. Cooper. It is so good to see you, dear." He stood, stepping across the room, pulling the blonde next to him into an embrace, and his fingers slipped from hers. She glanced back at him, a look of terror on her face. "Your parents have told me you've moved back to manage the Register. I am so very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir. Although there's a lot of work to go into the Register before it can be something I'm proud of."

"No, no, no. Dear, I've seen the work you did in New York, you will flourish at the Register. Great things, great things." His voice seemed to trail off, as he looked around the room again, this time, his eyes settling on his own. "Mr. Jones."

"Mr. Lodge." The elder man reached out to shake his hand, his grip strong and firm, never taking his eyes off of him. "Please, sit."

He gestured to the open seats on the couch and chairs nearby, as if the friends hadn't spent countless hours in front of this very fire, curled into one another watching movies or just watching the flames. This apartment did not feel like their safe place, Hiram's presence was foreign and cold. Veronica and Archie came into the room, carrying a tray of coffee and mugs, placing it on the table in the middle of the room.

"It pains me that we meet again under these circumstances. But- here we are, and there's no need to go over pleasantries. Since this is a decision Veronica and Archie have chosen to enter into without my consent, I'm not sure there is much else I can do, besides be supportive. That being said, as a part of being supportive, I need to make sure everything is taken care of. Everything- including you, Ms. Cooper." His hand instinctively reached for hers, as the older man turned his attention to the blonde next to him.

"Of course, all medical expenses will be paid, both before and after. We will also pay for whatever time you are away from the Register, as well as the salary of your replacement. I would also like to offer you additional compensation in the form of $50,000, which I know is not much, but I hope it can ease this burden for you. Now…" The man in the suit turned his attention to him, and he froze, the expression on his face one of both concern and hatred.

"Veronica has informed me that you will also be involved in this process. I must say, I am less than thrilled that Ms. Cooper has chosen you, but that is not a choice or decision that I have any part or say in. Regardless, here we are. I'm aware that you are not your father, but forgive me for being hesitant that you are your father's son. I am, however, thankful to see you are not sporting the black leather that your father is so accustomed to. I take that to mean you have not followed his path with the Serpents?"

"That's correct, sir. I'm a photographer, mostly freelance, I'm in the process of moving my office to New York with plans to work remotely from Riverdale."

"Photography, eh? How does that work for you?"

"Very well, sir. I'm shooting in Paris this next month."

"Good, very good. My concern, you see, is with a stipulation that Mr. Andrews has." His eyes darted over to the redhead sitting across from him, still with that same pained look on his face. "You see, although this is something that Mr. Andrews and my Veronica want together, Mr. Andrews has asked for it to be written into the contract, that in the event of Veronica's death, Ms. Cooper and her partner, which I see she has chosen you, will be rewarded sole custody of the child."

* * *

Names were signed on lines, I's dotted and T's crossed. All in all, the entire exchange had taken less than an hour, and Hiram Lodge had left, the four friends still sitting in front of the fire, unsure where to go next. How long they sat like that, he wasn't sure, hours maybe. The small black ball that Veronica referred to as a dog, had decided his lap was the best to sleep in, and he had to admit, stroking the black fluff gave him something else to think about.

He wanted to rage at Archie. In all of the years they had been friends, he'd never been this angry with him. He felt blindsided by this new development, but angrier for Betty who was curled next to him. This was something that should have been discussed in the very beginning. He sat there, fuming, the small dog snuggled on his lap, one hand intertwined with the blonde next to him, until Veronica, who sat across from him, finally rose.

"It's late. Let's go to bed, and deal with this in the morning." Veronica reached for Archie's hand before leaning low to kiss the blonde's forehead, scooping up the small black dog.

He waited until the two retreated down the hallway and closed the door to Veronica's room, before turning to Betty, pulling her up by her hand and leading her down the hallway to the room that had at one time been his. He searched the drawers, handing her an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, grabbing a pair of pants for himself. 

This new development, this change in their plans, changed everything. He could almost feel the anger radiating off of her body as he pulled the blankets tight around her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. She curled next to him, pushing her body closer to him, wrapping her arms tight around him. He kissed her forehead, ran his fingers through her hair, holding her close. She felt so small curled in his arms, as her body trembled and shook, small tears falling onto his chest. He held her, for hours, watching her small body shake, until she finally fell asleep. He watched her, watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, her gentle breath on his chest, not ever moving, not ever closing his eyes. He never wanted to leave her, never wanted to close his eyes, and not see her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a tally of who you despise most after this chapter- Hiram or Archie


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights, she dreamed of more than his arms, but most nights she fell asleep with thoughts of their life together. Dinners and movies, days spent wrapped together on the couch, picnics at the river, long drives through the country, just being together. More than anything, that's what she dreamed about when she thought of him, a normal life together.

She stirred slowly against him, feeling the warmth of his chest on her cheek. His hand grazed her hair, stroking and soothing, her eyes glancing up to meet his. His beautiful grey eyes, bloodshot, and puffy. She knew without asking that he hadn't slept, instead choosing to watch her sleep, to worry about her. She ran her hand up to his chest, up across his arm, grasping his face.

"I'm so sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke into his chest. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

"No. You don't get to be sorry about this. This is not on you." His voice was not soft, was not sweet, and she saw the anger flash in his eyes. She didn't want to see them, to make this worse, and she knew in that instant, that he needed time to cool down, time to process this. She reached for his hand, slipping quietly out of the bedroom and down the hallway. It was still early, early enough that they were alone in the kitchen. She jotted a note on the whiteboard that hung on the wall next to the refrigerator-  _ Lunch at my apartment, see you at 1 -  _ before they stepped quietly out into the hallway, back down the elevator, back to her car.

He remained quiet on the short drive, but his hand was still tightly gripped in hers, and she could feel his tension. Inside the apartment, he slunk onto the couch and stared out into the space. She moved into the kitchen, leaving him sitting there alone, to start a pot of coffee. She carried him out a mug and set it on the table, before starting water for her shower.

Staring in the mirror, she noticed how puffy her eyes were. She didn't remember when she fell asleep last night, but she remembered crying. The warmth of the water felt soothing, washing over her and bringing her clarity. She braided her wet hair loosely, stepping into a pair of black leggings and an oversized grey sweater, dabbing a small bit of makeup on her face, to cover the puffiness and redness around her eyes. When she stepped back into the living room, she was glad to see he had fallen asleep on the couch, and she grabbed a spare blanket from her bedroom, wrapping it around him.

She curled into the chair, content on reading a book and watching him sleep for hours. She missed him, even when he was right there. She wanted to talk to him, to hold his hand, to hear his laugh. He looked so peaceful and content, the soft rise and fall of his chest, and she felt herself drawn to him. She pulled back the blanket that draped over him and curled her body tightly alongside his, drawing one of his arms over her.

  
  


For the second time today, when he opened his eyes, she was snuggled close to his chest. He didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, he had just wanted to sit down until she was finished in the shower, but the exhaustion from the night before had overtaken him. She looked so soft, so calm, the soft waves of her hair frizzing out from her braid. He kissed her forehead and felt her slowly stir underneath him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, but it's hard not to kiss you when you're right there. I didn't mean to yell earlier…"

"I wasn't expecting you to be so upset."

"It's just a lot to process. You and I. Moving back here. Veronica being sick. Us becoming parents. I feel like my emotions are in overdrive."

"Is this not what you want?" He heard the tremor in her voice, she barely whispered, like she was afraid to ask the question because she didn't want to hear the answer.

"Betts, I want everything with you. I want to live with you, I want to marry you, I want to have babies with you. But I'd also like to date you first, and I feel like everything has been thrust upon us all at once."

Maybe that wasn't the right way of saying things. She was off the couch faster than he had gotten the words out, tears were already falling down her face. He sat up, reaching out to grasp her hand, but she pulled away sharply.

"Jughead. No one asked you to move back here. No one asked you to move in here. The only thing I asked, was for you to be by my side, as my friend. Everyone will rally around Veronica and Archie, and I will be left alone, to carry this baby and to deal with the aftermath, and I just wanted you to hold me on the nights when things get bad. I want all of those things with you, because I love you, not because they're forced upon us."

He moved closer to her, pulling her into his arms, and this time, she didn't pull away. Her tears fell softly on his shoulder, but he just stood there holding her. He ran his hand down her braid, twirling the end of it. She sighed, leaning her head back, her eyes staring up into his. He dipped down, ghosting his lips against hers.

The knock on the door interrupted him from pulling her in any closer.

"Shit." He watched her eyes dart from the door to the clock, panic falling over her face. "How long did we nap?"

"Apparently long enough, it's already 1."

He watched as she pulled the door open, welcoming in their other two best friends. He felt the tension in the room, the unspoken things that still needed to be said, between all of them. He wanted to hold her, to protect her always, but she was already flitting around the kitchen, pulling soup and bread and apologizing left and right.

"B- it's no problem. Let me help you." He watched as Veronica stepped into the kitchen, helping to pull a pan and prepare lunch, leaving him standing alone in the living room with Archie. He glanced back at the couch, folded the blanket, and tossed it over the back, before sitting down, his head nodding in the direction of the chair.

There was a lot he wanted to say to him, but not much he really wanted to fight about. That was the thing about the four of them, there had never been any true fights amongst them. It was mostly- _ I wish you had told me first _ , like when they all made their college choices and found out they'd be away from each other, or when Archie and Veronica had searched his father's trailer looking for any evidence that her dad was involved with his dealings. Little things, that communicating would have avoided. Like this. Even now, when his name was signed on a dotted line, he still felt removed from this situation, like he was the innocent bystander watching a car crash.

"Sorry we left so early this morning. I think we're both feeling a little blindsided by this latest development."

"Jug, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want you to think that it's not that I don't want this child, because I do, in so many ways. I want everything. But I want it all with her. And when she's gone, I can already feel it. I can already feel myself ripping apart. I won't be the best option, if…"

"Arch, I know. I don't even want to act like I understand what you're feeling. But it'll be your kid too. I mean, hopefully not your red hair, but it'll be yours. I don't want to be stepping up and stepping in on raising your kid, man. I get it, I know that it's her and it's hers, and things are going to be bad for all of us if the worst happens, but at the end of the day, that's your kid. You can't just walk away from that…"

His voice trailed off, and in that moment, he finally understood why he was so mad at him. Because once upon a time, long before his father had gone away to prison, his mother had walked out, had walked away from him. She'd looked at him one morning, and decided enough was enough, packed a bag and his younger sister, and left, leaving him behind with a drunk that was barely home. Nothing, no amount of time would ever heal that wound, and here was Archie, his best friend, the guy he'd spent countless nights sleeping at his house because his dad was off on some bender, prepared to do the exact same thing to his child.

"Jughead, we're not asking you to understand everything right away. And I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, for not telling you both from the very beginning. I know the papers say sole custody, but it won't always be like that. It'll be like an uncle- weekends and holidays, shared time. I just need to know that on my really bad days, this kid is still being taken care of."

"Arch. It's just a lot to process, for all of us, in a short amount of time. Maybe we just need some time, together, doing something normal." She looked like an angel coming back into the room, the smell of soup and grilled cheese radiating behind her.

_ A day of normalcy _ . A day spent curled up on the couch, watching old episodes of Friends, playing trivia and card games. After devouring Pop's takeout for dinner, they switched to watching horror movies, he preferred the classics while Archie preferred the slasher genre, the girls preferred neither, but he enjoyed having the blonde snuggled up into his side, using his arm as a shield. It felt normal, it felt good, like all of the craziness of the last month, and all of the craziness of the coming months, was gone, like it didn't matter. He wanted nothing more than to stay in this bubble of normalcy, this bubble of just the four of them, their own little happy family.

It was after midnight when Archie and Veronica left to go home, Betty had long ago fallen asleep on the couch. He picked her up softly, carrying her into her room. He covered her up in the blankets, sliding in next to her, wrapping his arms around her. He wanted to give her everything, everything she wanted, everything he wanted. But a real date was probably a good starting point.

* * *

Three weeks. That's how long it'd been since that day with Hiram Lodge, and he still hadn’t taken Betty on a real date. He'd spent the better part of those weeks running ideas through his head, countless hours on the phone with Veronica working out the details of the perfect first date. Betty deserved the world, and he planned on giving it to her, piece by piece, but he was still nervous about how she would react, if she would think this grand gesture was too much.

* * *

She'd spent the weeks between the Register and Veronica's, keeping up their little habit. She'd had her first appointment, and started a slew of medications, including a daily injection that her and Veronica made a little game about. Every morning, she'd Facetime her, and they'd laugh in the bathroom as she stuck the needle into the fleshy part of her waist. There were was only a week between Veronica's procedure to extract her eggs and Betty's procedure, or what the doctors called "the transfer" but what the friends were calling "the conception".

When she climbed into her big bed each night, even with him just in the other room, she longed for his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. Everything with the Register and the surrogacy felt so foreign and rushed, but he felt like her anchor, tying her down and holding her in place. He was the sense of normalcy she was craving, that little dose of light. Some nights, she dreamed of more than his arms, but most nights she fell asleep with thoughts of their life together. Dinners and movies, days spent wrapped together on the couch, picnics at the river, long drives through the country, just being together. More than anything, that's what she dreamed about when she thought of him, a normal life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like Archie was the winner of our poll last week.


End file.
